For those that haven't heard, the spoon theory is a great representation of dealing with life as someone with a chronic illness. Each day you wake up with a certain amount of spoons and different activities take different spoons, or energy, away from you. Once you are left with zero spoons, that's it, you can't just make more spoons. 

Case in point, I went from a pretty successful January, going to work and coming home to continue working on my 'second job'. Which is generally either writing or editing my site. 

To almost nothing. 

It all just stopped. 

For a little over 2 weeks now, I've only managed work. And barely at that. Some days requiring one or two breaks just to get through 8 hours. For those that have never gotten a migraine, it's a little hard to imagine. But try. Picture not being able to fully understand what people tell you, not being able to mentally piece a response back, or even verbally try and offer one, all while being in pain. It's English and you know how to speak but for some reason, the wires aren't clicking. The pain is probably what's talked about the most, but the brain fog is the worst in my opinion. 

Around 6 months ago, I told myself I was feeling better and that I wasn't completely useless. I could manage the simple task of going to the bank. While everyone else walked about in complete confidence, I was struggling to fill out a deposit form. Everything was screaming at me that I wasn't doing it right. My heart rate was soaring as I tried to figure out what to put in each little box. And my body was beginning to sweat as I realized I didn't know that answer. I struggled on till I saw my account number was several digits short and gave up. I walked to the teller. And sure enough, he couldn't find that number in the system. Thankfully he didn't ask for an explanation, just for me to swipe my card instead. Each moment it was painfully clear to me that I was not fully processing what was going on. The pen felt large and clumsy in my hand as I attempted to hit what I thought was the right buttons. Somehow, probably thanks in part to it being a pretty easy task, the check got deposited and I was on my way home. It was a white-knuckled drive that lasted less than 5 minutes, but it left me more than shaken. I collapsed, crying and scared that I wouldn't be able to operate like a regular adult. And for the next several weeks, each trip out of the house was extremely anxiety ridden. 

But then it went away and for whatever reasons, the migraines and confusion subsided. I had chalked it up to the new preventative migraine medications, but in reality, it could have been just the change in the season. 

Because now they're back. Each day I'm plagued with pain, confusion, and a mushy tongue that can't seem to speak. While I have been to the doctor, and have started a round of steroids, it hasn't gotten much better. 

So what does that mean for February and my chart of self-pressured achievement? It means...

1. I'm cursing myself for not appreciating my clear times better

and 2. I need to just let it go for now and be okay with that. 

Some days I can't tackle it all and instead of feeling like a failure, I should be celebrating the things I can actually do. So perhaps you can't workout on days you went to work. Perhaps doing laundry or cooking a good dinner takes too many spoons and you need to save them to get a paycheck. At least you did that. And that's okay. Sometimes there is no 'just push harder'.

I know I need to edit the pictures on my homepage and make them smaller for optimal loading times. I know I should be writing the book I haven't touched in months. I know I should be reading books and actually cleaning my house. But right now, I'm just proud of what I can do with the few spoons I have.